Julian kept quiet at school. Did his work. Learned what he could. But most of the other kids called him odd for wanting to talk about flowers and gardening or whispered behind their hands about how he was the son of mean ol’ Walker and he must be as vile and hateful as his old man. Damian encouragedJulian to stand up for himself, but he never did. He pretended not to hear and then read every book the teacher would allow.
Mary was the one who invited him to play games with the others at recess. Or helped him when he struggled with the math work. She was the one who greeted him with a smile every day.
Oh, her friend Anna Lakeman said hello each morning to him too, but she wasn’t as nice as Mary. He’d caught her staring at him and frowning on several occasions.
He couldn’t blame her.
The sky darkened and Julian forced his focus away from his safe haven. He’d avoided the house as long as possible. After several hours digging in his garden, he was exhausted. Every inch of his body ached from his father’s cruel lashing. If he could stay out of his father’s way for the rest of the evening, it would be a miracle. But he’d have to do his best. Keep quiet. Hidden. He needed a bath. And a month of rest.
His stomach rumbled in a loud roar reminding him that he hadn’t eaten. Another reason to sneak back into the house. With a groan, he got to his feet, cleaned up his tools, and took slow, agonizing steps toward the back door.
But the fierce hulk of his father stood there waiting for him, his arms crossed over his muscled midsection.
Julian’s heart threatened to pound out of his chest. The instinct to run battled with his common sense to stay put and not risk another beating.
“I’m headed out in the morning. Gotta drive some cattle to Colorado. You’ll have to fend for yourself. Scottie will be here taking care of the ranch.”
At least the foreman treated Julian with kindness. Well, itseemedkind compared to the vicious blows from his father. Julian swallowed and blinked but held the older man’s stare. A required response. Any words might rile the man again.
His father turned and walked away.
After he counted to ten, Julian released a huge breath. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with his father’s temper for a while.
It put a bit of a spring into his sore and exhausted step. Perhaps he would even go into town and tell Mary.
Her smile would make everything better.
Now if he could keep Damian away and avoid another altercation with their father before daybreak, the light might have a chance to chase the darkness away.
one
“I cannot tell what the years may bring, life is a scene of change.”
~Earl Douglass
SUNDAY, JUNE2, 1878 • SETTLEMENTOFWALKERCREEK, WYOMINGTERRITORY
Home.
A seemingly innocuous word. A place she loved.
And yet, every time Anna Lakeman returned there, her insides begged to differ.
She could see it in the distance, just a few minutes away ... the house where she grew up, where she learned to sketch and paint.
The wheels of the wagon bumped and rolled their way along the grass- and weed-covered lane. A testament to her absence.
What was it about coming home that made her want to run away?
With each return from a dig with her father, she ponderedthe same questions. Never getting any answers. Or perhaps she’d been avoiding the answer for too long.
Memories of her mother were beautiful and made her feel warm and loved, so it wasn’t the loss of the woman who gave her life that brought these feelings.
Then there was the loss of her best friend, Mary. It had been a decade since her friend went missing, but Anna felt the absence in her heart and soul every day. Some people said that grief lessened over time. And if she was honest, she could say that yes, the grief was less. But the loss ... she knew that as keenly today as she had the day Mary didn’t return.
Home was where she had the best memories of Mary and of Mama.
So why was it an uncomfortable place? This time she didn’t silence the answer.
